Hostage
by firewithinclover007
Summary: Her father is an important figure. Lily knew that. It's never been of much significance to her until two men kidnap her as bait for the bigger prize: her father. As her wits are pushed to the final limit and secrets are revealed in the most unexpected places, Lily realizes her struggle is far from over.


Hostage

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**Chapter 1**

It's dark.

The unmistakable glint of the gun reflecting the light of the moon is the only thing I can distinguish from the dimly lit car. The events of the day are all jumbled up in my head so I can barely think straight. Focusing my eyes on the gun helps me prepare for any unexpected movements it might make. The car jolts suddenly as it drives over a deep pothole, catching me off guard and ramming my head into the car's roof. A strange choked sound escapes my throat in surprise. Wrong move, I quickly observe because the gunmen to the right of me presses the gun deeper into my thigh while the man to the right of me squeezes my throat together telling me to shut up and did I want a bullet in between my eyes. Even if I had the stupidity to disobey, his hand crushed all the voice in me. As we speed across the numberless roads, I'm wondering how I managed to get stuck in this gamble with my life.

That very Tuesday marked the half-way point of the summer and two weeks until my birthday. I've never understood all the buzz over birthdays - just another three-hundred-sixty five you were alive. It's not any different than yesterday. Despite my simple logic, no one in my family seems to get it.

That morning I sat on the edge of the porch, bent over my brother's motorcycle with an assortment of tools clenched in my fist. Bloated clouds hung over the horizon, barely letting the sun peak through. I liked it like that, the perfect touch of sunlight streaming through the cool air. As I closed up the motorcycle, I felt more like a surgeon closing up an incision than a geeky girl repairing her brother's motorcycle. Childish maybe but it did make the process even more heart pounding. As I finished screwing in the last bolt, my brother, Alec jogged up, scanning my work with yet another girl titled as his girlfriend standing shyly behind him. In truth his name is really Felix but as a child he had trouble pronouncing his name which somehow evolved into Alec. I've been calling him that since.

"Did you fix it?" He asked, looking his motorcycle all over.

I turned the ignition on in answer and listen to the healthy purr of the bike, "Sounds good as new." A smile creeped onto his face as he ruffles my hair, "Thanks Lil". I never liked him ruffling my hair; it makes it even more messy than it usually is. But I have always liked him calling me Lil.

He introduced me to Maya, a beautiful gymnast with a killer smile. The kind of half smile that girls have when they are beautiful but just don't see it. I wish I had that problem.

When I don't say anything, Alec attempted to fill the silence by telling me about his newest sweetheart.

I'm tried desperately to come off as interested in her life but after watching your brother bring home girl after girl, they all start to blur in your head.

When Jordan finished introducing his newest partner, I extend my hand out to shake hands with her but when she hesitates, I realize it might be because my hand is smudged with oil stains. Quickly I withdrew my hand and snake it deep into my overall's pocket. Maya whispered something in his ears and he grinned.

"Hey Lily, we're going down to Maya's house for a bit, tell mom I'll be back after lunch. You okay with that?" He didn't really wait for an answer and they both hopped on his motorcycle. In a matter of seconds they both already disappeared into the morning horizon.

"Sure," I sighed to nobody.

The pride that once swelled in my chest leached out, replaced by an overwhelming sense of loneliness.

I couldn't help but envy my brother's life. I don't remember a day when Alec hasn't gone to a friend's house or brought his friends over to our house. Most girls in his grade and even in other grades end up gawking over his consistent good looks. I mean, who wouldn't like a senior in high school who's led the football team to four championship titles? Not to mention his father was an executive producer of the biggest movie company in California, raking in more money a month than some people made in a year.

Despite all that, we had both been pretty down to earth. That's one thing I like most about my brother. He's never been one to let money rule his life. He's a genuinely nice person, too when he compliments someone, he really means it. He's never one to talk to just hear himself talk.

I've never been too interested in our wealth status either, partly because I preferred to get my hands dirty with mechanics than anything else. The only problem with my brother is his relationships. He has choice selection of any girl he wants although his relationships don't last as long as a month. His longest relationship was with Tasha, a senior who he dated for four months. Last week I think he was dating Sierra. Or was it Kayleen?

I didn't really care anymore.

Rain began falling. The sky converted from a morning blue color to black ink spilling across the sky. It poured down hard, giving no grace period for one to find shelter from the downpour. Even though the porch is only a few feet away, water drenched every square inch of me.

The cold tile floor of the kitchen felt good on my bare feet, despite how cold the rest of my body was. Just then, a dark bundle of fur called Silas shoots across the floor. He stopped in front of the heating vent, the radiating warm air beckoning him to curl up in its warmth. He drifts off to sleep with a content purr, his faded whiskers quivering once or twice, until finally coming to a standstill.

Silas is pretty much the most useless thing in this house, but I can't say I don't enjoy his presence. My brother and I had found the old tom wandering the streets as a kit a week after my father left. It had saddened me to see him all alone in the world and hardened by its cruelty at such a young age. His ribs poked out like swords under a thin sheet of plastic, and his fur was falling out in clumps. His eyes glared distrustingly at us when my brother and I tried to approach him; his deflated muscles tensed, ready to flee if we took another step. We played this game for a while-we would inch closer to him and he would glare at us and prepare himself for evasion. He would drop his shackles, we would inch closer, and then he would glare again. At one point Alec got impatient and made a too quick of a move, and the cat was gone before we could blink. But the next day, we caught him scrounging around for food near the Bernall's lawn. We tossed him some chicken scraps, until we gained a small amount of his trust. We both fell in love with him, despite what a pathetic scrap of fur he was. Alec and I brought him home, and the way we looked all big eyed, begging our mom to let us keep him was too much for her to bear. She gave in, but on one condition: He would stay outside.

Well that condition didn't last long.

At first, Silas wouldn't even let us touch him. He would eat the food we set out for him and dart under a chair and stay there. It took at least a year before he finally realized that no one would ever hurt him again. When Silas hears the door shut behind me, he rouses from his snooze, stretching out his plump body and rolling on his back fully expecting a belly rub while in the blissful heat of the vent.

"Come here, Sil,' " I finally coaxed him into jumping onto my lap and sat in full felicity just feeling his soft fur against my fingers. He dragged his rough tongue against my arm while I petted him, his way of returning the favor. Once Silas felt satisfied, he let out a gentle purr then slipped off to another part of the house.

I went upstairs to change into some dry clothes, knowing that mother would be livid if she knew I was still in my rain-soaked clothes. Once changed, I started back towards the kitchen.

Suddenly a loud noise echoed from downstairs into my ears.

"Silas!" I groaned as I ascended down the stairs. Every day he was knocking things over; he seemed to get the most kicks by spilling the trash can. I sped into the kitchen, but was surprised to find that the floor was swept clean. Silas wasn't there either. I turn to go check the other rooms. Suddenly, a bony hand shot out from behind and covered my mouth, cutting off my shriek of terror while another unseen hand grabs my hands.

I wanted to think it was my brother's hand, or my mom's, or even my dad (whom I haven't seen since I was seven). But this person's touch was far different. It was cold, dry, and harsh.


End file.
